drop a heart, break a name
by imminent detonation
Summary: Canon, totally possible canon, crack. RoyJade, KlarionZatanna, M'gannKaldur, DickWally, Spitfire, Supermartian, DickArtemisWally, WallyZatanna, ConnerSphere, WallyFood, DickZatanna, DickBabs, ZatannaArtemis, M'gannArtemis, and more. Because I ship it too.


**roy/jade**

"WHAT HAPPENED."

She yawns and does one of her catlike stretches. "_I _don't know. I'm hoping your League and mine don't either."

Roy proceeds to turn over, bury his head in his pillow (his rather strange-smelling pillow. Something like bananas. Oh God. Let that be her perfume) and scream at an extremely manly pitch. He feels her slide off the bed and whips his head back up, resulting in a throb of pain shooting through his head. Ouch. "If you're even _thinking _about escaping –"

"Wearing this? Of course I am. Then I'm off to nuke an entire country," she deadpans over her shoulder. She picks up her clothes up off the grubby carpet, sniffs them, makes a face, and gets a sweatshirt from his wardrobe. Her (nice) legs are left bare. Roy snarls.

"You drugged me."

"_No_," she calls from the kitchen, just this side of indignant. "I was wondering if _you _put something in _my _drink, actually. I have standards, you know. The whole _Mr & Mrs Smith _thing is so overdone."

"You drugged me and then you – you found my address in my wallet and then you led me back here so you could – so you ‒ " okay shutupbrainshutupnow. Roy decides to turn conversation to a more practical plane. "So. This. This never happened. You're going to put your _own_ clothes back on and get out. And you're not going to mention this the next time we meet as Red Arrow and Cheshire."

She does none of the above. She does, however, reappear at the bedroom door and ask, "Where's your first aid kit? I have scratches on my back and hickeys on other places I shan't mention‒ they're bleeding a little and I can't have them getting infected."

He briefly considers saying please. She offers him the mug clasped in her hands. "Coffee?"

He stares at it with an amount of suspicion more appropriate for a black bag making ominous ticking noises that's been left on a train seat and only accepts it after she takes a sip first.

**klarion/zatanna**

"Where are you taking me?"

Klarion didn't answer. Zatanna kicked him in the head. And to think, Dad had said that heels were impractical!

The Witch Boy glared up at where she was levitating. The spell ensured that she couldn't float anywhere else but the path he was taking and Zatanna had to admit that it was preferable to being dragged along by her hair or chained to him. Ew. Definitely better than being chained to him.

"Do I have to remind you that we have your old man?"

"No. Why else do you think I haven't cast _der toh rekop pu ruoy ssa_ yet? And I repeat, where are you taking me?"

She was met with silence. Zatanna thusly kicked him in the spine.

Klarion winced and snapped his fingers. He'd wanted to put off the dreaded moment as long as possible, hence he walked and she'd floated, but if that meant getting assaulted the entire way and not being able to reduce the girl into a scorch mark on the floor in return, then well. Sooner, rather than later it would have to be.

After the smoke effects had cleared ("So unnecessary," Zatanna had groused) they found themselves in a lavishly decorated bedroom. Upon seeing that there were no windows or doors, and that the only piece of furniture in the room was a four-poster bed, Zatanna edged away as far as she could from the Witch Boy. This was Not Good.

"Now," Klarion sniffed haughtily, "take your clothes off and – OW WOMAN WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?"

"My problem!" she shrieked. He was curled in the fetal position, clutching Zatanna didn't want to think what. "My father is in the clutches of supervillians, I've been blackmailed into not calling the League or the Team, I've had my powers blocked by some spell, I've been kidnapped by some prepubescent sorcerer with a fetish for cats, and now my kidnapper wants to _rape_ me! What_ isn't_ my problem!" She stepped on his face. Just for good measure.

"I don't want to be here any more than you," Klarion growled around a patent black leather heel stabbing his cheek, "but old man Ra's has all these science-y thingamajigs from when Batman knocked up his daughter and they're cluttering up the Light's storeroom. So since I'm basically the biggest magical badass there is and your powers are above average, they've decided to put that stuff to use again and they think we should –"

"DON'T SAY IT!" Zatanna wailed, face buried in her hands. Her heel dug a little harder into Klarion's face. He vaguely wondered whether the Brotherhood of Evil had any vacancies and started composing a resume in his head.

**dick/wally**

"Wolverine or Gambit."

"Damn. Uh, Gambit. I guess. No, but Wolverine is…Wolverine! Okay, I'm picking both and there's nothing you can do about it. So – Rogue or Jean Grey?"

"That's a tough one," Dick says from where he's sprawled on Wally's bed. "You know I've got a thing for redheads."

The speedster grins at his kind-of-boyfriend-kind-of-best-friend. Long name. But hey, they're new to this. "Oh, I know."

The Boy Wonder smirks. "You sounded a lot like Artemis." He cuts in Wally's outraged spluttering with "Rogue. Ask me another."

"Hmm. Captain America or Bucky?"

Dick rolls his eyes. "Robin."

"Dude, what."

"We have a top-secret cave with mind-blowing amounts of swag. Do they have a top-secret cave with mind-blowing amounts of swag? I don't think so."

"They have awesome shields."

"We have batarangs."

"Virtually indestructible shields."

"Exploding batarangs, plus everything in the utility belt. Can we move on, please? Quicksilver or Speed?"

"Hmm. What a tough choice. I pick Kid Flash," Wally snorts in reply. He expects snark about the pot calling the kettle black, but Dick gets a mischievous twinkle in his eyes instead, and a backflip later he's straddling his lap.

"Yeah?" He nips Wally's collarbone. Dick's mouth works his way up his neck, jaw, the hollow behind his ear, tongue and teeth and _ohfuckyes_. So maybe they weren't _that _new to this. And his voice is a husky whisper as he breathes in his boyfriend _and_ best friend's ear, "Me too."

**m'gann/kaldur**

"There's nothing like Mars on Earth. It's just out of this world." Her voice is heavy with irony and he laughs a little. "Nothing like how everyone's joy, grief, pain, anger, passion and love are just _there _all the time. It's like thoughts and emotions are something tangible and you're constantly walking through them. Like a huge net, one that's all around, but…not_, _because it isn't something you get caught up in. It's lovely, like a constant embrace. Okay –" M'gann wrinkles her nose –"I'm not doing Mars justice." She is skimming the pool's surface with her toes, twirling in slow circles.

"Nothing like the colours," Kaldur says wistfully. She pauses mid-pirouette to look at him interestedly. "There are the frescoes that tell of stories every Atlantean grows up with. The corals, sea creatures, plants – all of them are gorgeous. I have yet to come across a dull-coloured species of aquatic life back in Atlantis. And there is sorcery everywhere_._ It paints the ocean even more beautiful." He is floating on his back, watching the fluorescent light reflect off the water to join M'gann in her airborne dance.

"I'd always wanted to come to Earth, though," she says, settling on the edge of pool and dipping her legs in. Swish, swish. "And though things here can get really awful sometimes –" they both wince at the awful, awful memory of unearthly lights, eerie outlines of skeleton, another fallen friend –"there's nothing like Earth on Mars either."

"Atlantis does not have hot dogs," Kaldur says gravely. They both laugh, her endearing giggles, his deep chuckle, and he scoops some water in his palm. "To living our dreams, then."

M'gann grins and with a wiggle of her fingers, makes herself a webbed hand of her own. And as they toast – sort of, no one willinglydrinks pool water – he muses about the possibility of finding someone like her, sweetness and selflessness and _strength _on Earth, Mars, Atlantis, or really, anywhere at all. The chances are looking pretty low.

**dick/artemis**

Dick drops into the seat next to Artemis, cheeks flushed and mouth stretched into a huge grin. He's been on the dance floor for the past hour and a half, performing one gravity-defying move after another. The girls are all dying. He still looks closer to fifteen despite turning eighteen tonight, though.

"Not dancing?" he asks.

"My feet hurt," Artemis grumbles, "Donna made me wear these heels. I think they were made for freakishly strong Amazonian ankles."

Dick laughs. "You _wear _heels."

"But these are four inches high!"

"Well, they make your legs look _awesome, _so Donna knew what she was doing."

Artemis rolls her eyes. Puberty has given him four inches in height, a deepened voice, slightly more muscle tone and an incurable penchant for flirting.

Dick sighs and leans back against the bar. "I'm glad everyone's here. Br–Bats said he had plans for my birthday if I didn't."

"Patrol on your eighteenth? That's harsh."

"Not patrol." A stuffy party in the Wayne Manor ballroom with excruciatingly boring people. Dick winces. He's pretty sure Bruce knows what he thinks about any party formal enough for the ballroom, which is why he'd been pushing the idea of having just a small 'family gathering' in the afternoon – with just him, Alfred, Babs and all the younger siblings – and another at night with the Team. "Worse. Anyway!" He stands up and stretches. "I'm up for another round of metaphorical lady-killing. Dance with me?"

"Nuh-uh," her hair is loose for once, so it _swooshes _around her shoulders as she shakes her head, "I want to be able to walk ho – er, walk to a zeta tube to get me back to Star City after this."

"Then _leave _the shoes. Come on," Dick pouts, tugging on Artemis's arm. "It's my birthday."

The beers she's downed in quick succession prior to their conversation are starting to buzz pleasantly in her head. "Ah, hell," she laughs, kicking off Donna's snakeskin-print heels, "Happy birthday!"

Dick smirks like _knew you couldn't say no_ (she decides to let it go) and takes her arm and they weave their way through the throng of revellers. "Let's show everyone what dancing looks like, yeah? Wally certainly isn't."

"Hey! The Penguin Shuffle is a work in progress, okay?"

They nod very seriously.

Artemis is no slouch at dancing herself, though only under the influence of alcohol, and she's semi-inebriated so she and Dick are easily the best dancers there. They find themselves a prime spot in the middle of the dance floor and they pretend not to know Wally, who is failing spectacularly at trying to get everyone to do the Penguin Shuffle (shift feet to the right, shift feet to the left, walk like a penguin while shaking your arms like you're spazzing.)

"I'm not gonna teach him how to dance with you," Dick yells over the music . He's looking at her meaningfully and she knows there's a vague tune that goes with what he's saying, a song she's heard once or twice and blasted on the stereo in the Cave because it's pretty catchy, and she takes a very brief moment to wonder if he's trying to tell her something. But right now dancing her feet off seems to be of utmost priority to her and Artemis just smiles.

"Oh, come on, you'd be doing everyone a favour."

There's a heartbeat when he gets this _look_ on his face.

It's probably just the lights.

"Happy birthday to me!" Dick grins, himself again, and they both positively shriek with laughter at nothing at all as they lose themselves in the music and the way they move together.

**wally/zatanna**

It was annoying and yet kind of flattering, the way he was using awful magic-related pick-up lines on her. Zatanna was starting to see what Robin had meant by 'a little too Wally.'

"Hey, you should come over more often. I could show you my nine-and-a-half-inch – um, _wand._"

Ugh.

"I thought you didn't believe in magic," she said with as much dignity as possible. Artemis had told her about the Team –or one-sixth of it–on their way back to the Cave after their Halloween girls' night out. Although they'd just spent an entire night kicking ass, taking names and blowing off Artemis's steam, there was still _lots _of it left. Therefore: would it kill him to chew with his mouth closed? And, God, he could be so stubborn, and arrogant, too – just because he didn't get magic, surprise surprise, she was surprised _anything _could get into that thick head of his – where did he get off saying it was stupid? And – oh, sorry, Zatanna. She didn't mean to – um. Feel like joining in? Talking about Wally's general douchebaggery, she meant.

The red-haired speedster leered at her. "But for you, babe, I could."

Zatanna thought very hard about her happy place. Wally leaned in closer. "Okay, okay. Wanna see if me talking science textbook turns you on as much as it does me when you talk abracadabra-speak?" He dropped his voice to a whisper. "You're so hot, you denature my enzymes."

She wasn't amused. At all. She turned her head so he wouldn't see her smiling. "That was awful."

"You and I are like potassium and water. Our reaction would be hot, loud and explosive."

Zatanna did laugh this time, more at the delivery and less at the line. His eyebrows were waggling lecherously and his voice was just straight out of a TV sitcom.

Wally took that as an invitation to scooch in even closer. "So you feel like jumping into my arms and speeding out for –"

"Sorry. I'm not intoxicated enough for that."

Later, Wally would recount the sorry tale of the Failed Seduction: Sorceress Edition to his best friend and after Dick had gotten over the initial grouchiness ("Dude, that is _so _breaking the bro code!") he would say, matter-of-factly: "I don't think she minded that much, man. If she did, she'd have zapped your balls off."

Wally resolved to up his research into witty conversation starters another fifteen per cent.

**a/n (1a) : **All ships are here/will be here because I ship it or for shits and giggles. Same thing, really.

**a/n (1b) : **Not not really.

**a/n (1c) : **I think.

**a/n (2): **Klarion/Zatanna. I SO TOTALLY WENT THERE AND I REGRET NOTHING.

**a/n (3) : **I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You © The Black Kids is _the _Dick/Arty song. I listened to it the whole time I was writing that drabble.

**a/n (4) :** Roy/Jade is my OTP to end all OTPs. I swear I can't take the creys they give me (LIAAAAN) so I wrote light-hearted Roy/Jade. Didn't think it was possible.

**a/n (5) : **No Conner in this one, though. Boohoo. Next batch of ships, for sure.

**a/n (6) : **Not sure how long I'm gonna make this. I'm going to be pretty busy this year. Major exams and stuff.

**a/n (7) : **But NO SHIP LEFT BEHIND! And until the next time, bye )) thanks for reading and drop a review!


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